


Shadow Takes All

by kyo_chan



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/kyo_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zolf Kimblee gambles on a second chance, and he ends up with more than he was bargaining for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012-2013 FMA Reverse Big Bang. My artist was sweet-suzume and my beta was aionwatha. This was an absolute blast to write, and I think that there may be a sequel...

**_Prologue:_ **

“Mr. Mustang!” 

The door to Roy’s office burst open and little feet thundered across the floor. He just managed to put his file down before his lap was full of excited toddler. Roy settled Selim Bradley on his thighs, pulling off his reading glasses while the boy’s arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug. 

“I’m so sorry, General Mustang,” Mrs Bradley said, following her son inside at a much slower pace. She clasped her hands in front of her, bowing. “I know you’re busy, but he wanted to see you.” 

“Quite all right,” Roy assured her, ruffling Selim’s hair and earning a giggle in response. His gaze flickered over to where Hawkeye stood in the doorway, hand resting lightly on the sidearm at her hip. She would watch them until Mrs. Bradley took Selim back home again. 

“I won’t stay long, Mr. Mustang. But we got out of class early and I wanted to bring you something.” He held out a folded piece of paper. “I made it.” 

“Did you now?” Roy took it and opened it one handed. It was a crayon drawing of a blue person with a black scribble of hair. Above it was a five-year-old’s impression of the military symbol. “Is that me?” 

“Yessir!” 

“Well, it’s even more dashing than the original.” He held the drawing up to his face, the afternoon sun beaming in to illuminate both man and art. 

Selim laughed again. “You can have it, sir.” 

“Thank you, Selim.” After a moment’s deliberation, he propped it up near his framed photo of Hughes. 

“Come along now, Selim,” Mrs. Bradley cooed, making a beckoning motion. “General Mustang is a busy man.” 

Roy was treated to another tight hug before Selim slid off his lap. He beamed and bowed, then ran to his mother. The boy turned to wave one last time, then took Mrs. Bradley’s hand. His bubbly chatter faded down the hall with them.

/

 _So close…_

_The bullet whizzes past his head so close he can hear the whistle of it before it strikes the sun-cooked plaster wall before him. Muttering a curse, he turns to look over his shoulder, gaze fixing on the watch tower. It becomes clear where the shot had come from. He grumbles again and takes a better look at the scene before him. Military grunts scramble all about like ants with semi-automatics, and he’s uninterested in their scouting maneuvers. The sector is going to be reduced to rubble anyway; it just appears he’ll have to wait a little longer to have the satisfaction.  
_

_One of the men pauses to look where the shot was fired as well, and a flicker of recognition goes through his mind when they lock eyes. Maes Hughes. That man from academy days in the mess hall, an eagerly smiling face insisting he should come and sit with some of the other guys. He is a busybody and a nuisance, but not at all a shabby soldier. There are times when he hears Hughes chattering about letters from his girlfriend and ignores it for useless drivel. There is nothing of that senseless joy now, and he decides that he doesn’t like the way the bespectacled man is looking at him. He flashes Hughes a smile that is nowhere near pleasant and holds up his hand with half an array marked on his palm, fingers spread. He still feels the alchemic charge from before the warning shot had been fired.  
_

_Five minutes._

A frown tugged his lips at the unbidden recollection, and he looked down at the letter, nearly finished now. A few more minutes to dwell on his decision, but the reminder of things he had left behind felt very well timed. He was so close, and yet unable to do anything. It was time to change that. He let the rest of the words fall to the paper. 

****

**_Chapter 1_**

_It’s a good thing I didn’t already have dinner plans._

Zolf Kimblee neatly folded up his newspaper neatly and set it down on the small café table, placing his saucer on top so that it wouldn’t blow away in the morning breeze. He pulled the little piece of paper from his breast pocket. A single fold went perfectly down the middle, a time and place typed neatly and anonymously. 

8:00PM  
Dalseni Cafe 

Certainly, he knew the place, a little family-owned restaurant not all that different from the place he sat now to have his morning coffee. He appreciated the downplayed atmosphere. Quiet, unobtrusive, and with just the right amount of ambient shadows to perfectly enshroud a meeting that wasn’t meant for prying eyes. The boy who handed him the note had merely smiled at him when asked who had paid him to pass on the message. _“Just doin’ m’ job, sir.”_ His mysterious caller could have found no better way to send the invitation. Using a lowly shoe shine boy, who probably got his day’s wages in cens to deliver the paper to Kimblee and politely dodge any inquiries. Clever and well played. 

Nearly five years had gone by, the time passing in obscurity, fleeting but oddly calm. As years progressed, he had become increasingly more convinced that his old self was but a ghost. A little bit of digging had uncovered that a missive had been sent to his family, cataloging that after his years of service in the military, the conflict in Central half a decade prior had rendered him missing in action. He had laughed at all the unnecessary formality of it, so many official words that effectively stated Mustang hadn’t chosen to lay him to rest. The loose end was a half-assed freedom. While certainly not as exciting as military life, it wasn’t as boring as his home life had been. He had more found an in-between place where he had retained a rather healthy portion of his sanity and a new start. If all this disappeared because of the note he sent to Mustang, he had only himself to blame. 

_Curiosity killed the cat._

It made a note like this ever more intriguing. He had been expecting some other kind of letter, not a secret note from a service boy. Such anonymity was unnecessary in New Optain. The town wasn’t out in the sticks, as it were, but it was tight knit enough to mean that if someone wanted to relay a message to “Jonathan Crawford”, most knew how to do so. He was a regular at this café in the morning, submitted his editorials to the local paper after breakfast and took his walk about the town before heading home. Anyone that wanted to talk to him would normally just ask. As he sipped his coffee, he pondered his next move. 

Kimblee’s thumb ran over the letters, feeling the creases where the keys had struck, thinking that if he went to the appointed place at the appointed time, the mystery of who had invited him would easily be solved. Another part of him hesitated to indulge such a request so easily. It had a charged feel to it, something he couldn’t put his finger on, and his old self began to uncoil at the thought of change on the wind. Ultimately, he knew what the answer would be. 

_Satisfaction brought him back._

/

A chuckle crept past Kimblee’s lips in a low rumble while wariness tracked down his spine. He stood at the edge of the farthest booth in the café, where there was just enough privacy he hadn’t seen his anonymous dinner partner until he was only feet away. Once he did, amusement and caution brought a wolfish smile to his face. The moment their gazes locked, the golden eyes before him narrowed unpleasantly, blonde brows furrowing. If Zolf didn’t know any better, he would have assumed that their clandestine meeting was just as much a surprise to the other man as it was to him. 

Edward Elric didn’t move from where he’d been sprawled in the booth, arms slung over the back of the bench. His hair trailed over his shoulder in a messy tail that almost reached his hips. Zolf noticed the absence of automail on the young man’s right hand instantly, which only secured his desire to stay. No matter that he was being glared at mightily; that was just part of the fun. He reached up to remove his hat, smoothing the other hand over his hair. Sliding into the seat, he steepled his fingers on the worn table top. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I sense that this is Mustang’s handiwork.” 

“Believe me, I might have reconsidered coming all the way out here if I knew I was going to see someone that dropped a building on my head.” 

Kimblee laughed. “I hope you’re not still holding a grudge, Fullmetal. It was all part of the job. Nothing personal, I assure you.” 

“Of course not. And just call me Ed.” 

“Very well, Ed.” 

Finally, the blonde shifted his position, putting his elbows on the table and pinning him with an intense stare, the analyzing look of an alchemist faced with a particularly puzzling equation. Zolf couldn’t help his satisfaction at the scrutiny, enjoying the notion of being an anomaly to the prodigy of the Amestrian military, the so-called hero of the people. He delighted in the knowledge that if he hadn’t yet figured out how he managed to survive the destruction of the homunculus known as Pride, Edward likely wouldn’t be able to figure it out at first glance either. He supposed he was lucky that the other man hadn’t reacted with his famous temper. He would have hated to upset the quiet atmosphere of the café with an unnecessary confrontation. 

“Is there something on my face?” he asked when he grew tired of waiting for Ed to reach an acceptable answer. 

Ed snorted. “You look pretty damn good for a dead guy.” 

“Dead? I believe I was tagged as MIA, not killed in action.” 

“Cut the crap, Kimblee. The right people know damn well that you were a dead man.” 

“In the long run, if people just assumed I was dead anyway, it was quite convenient for continuing on without having to account to the military for my actions.” 

“Spoken like a true coward.” 

Zolf waited until the waitress made her rounds to their table, and he gave her a pleasant smile. When he ordered a coffee, Ed did the same, and she scampered back to the kitchen. 

Unfazed by Ed’s insult, the elder man shrugged. “Call it what you will. The variables that were responsible for a number of negative acts I committed are now removed. I consider the fact that I am not permanently removed with them as an indication to move on.” 

A slow grin crept across Ed’s face, not completely unlike those Zolf remembered from a handful of years ago, but older now. The Fullmetal Alchemist always crossed lines he couldn’t turn back from, and it was a fascinating transition for someone that Zolf knew was barely of an age to drink, much less to have seen and done what he had. “You can run, Crimson, but you can’t hide.” 

Surely, if Ed was here for the reason he thought he was, hiding was not on his agenda anymore. The corners of his mouth turned ever so slightly downward. “I do believe that I’m still waiting for you to tell me why you’re here.” 

The smile widened as Ed leaned back into his sprawl again, stretching his arms out and crossing one leg over the other. “I dunno. Mustang likes to send me on fool’s errands a lot, but I guess when a ghost sends him a letter, it’s worth checking out, right? I’m not entirely convinced you won’t screw us over in the end and just find some other way to slither under a rock for a few years. Guess it’s up to me whether or not to bring you back to life, and my track record ain’t so good.” 

/

Ed had to give Mustang credit for being sneaky, because if Ed had any indication who he was going to New Optain to meet with, he might have denied the journey outright. But the flaming bastard had a silver tongue. Telling Ed the right tidbits, including the fact that Ed would know what he was looking for when he saw it, had him on a mission he couldn’t refuse. 

Clever as Mustang was, even Ed had to question this move. Sure, his information networks were pretty impressive, pinpointing the location of a supposedly MIA soldier, right down to where he got his shoes shined and had his morning coffee, after just one letter. But he personally thought his superior officer could have come up with better, less skeezy people to ally himself with. The Crimson Alchemist’s history was blood-stained, his morals skewed and his mannerisms slimier than the mud he used to play in as a kid. 

In the seconds that followed, Ed felt the gnawing on his gut indicating his opinion was about to change. He hated that, the idea of being wrong in his first impressions. It had such negative consequences in the past, and yet it felt like the whole reason Mustang had sent _him_ in the first place. Whatever had been left of the smarmy smile on Kimblee’s face had faded into a neutral line. A slight crease drew his brow, and his eyes slipped into an empty focus fixed entirely on him. Ed had stared bigger monsters in the face before; he wasn’t impressed by this one. No, he was waiting for more. 

“Are you here to take me back?” Deadpan. Cold. Completely guarded. 

“Was that what I was getting at?” Ed tipped his head back as if in thought, enjoying the game maybe a little more than he should have. But it felt nice to hold all the cards for once. “Mm, yeah, I guess I am.” 

He sat up when the waitress returned with their coffees in cups that had flowers painted on them and fancy sculpted handles. He had the fleeting thought that his mom would have liked to have those in her kitchen, but he shook it off, reaching for the sugar. 

“And what will happen when I get there?” 

Ed looked at him, the man’s face still like stone. It dawned on him that Kimblee expected to be stabbed in the back. He could either be trusted or there was enough evidence on him that he could be thrown into prison again the minute he set foot in Central. Ed, and Mustang by extension, didn’t just hold all the cards – they held Kimblee’s freedom. Ed was inwardly taken aback, used to suspecting others of cloak and dagger backstabbing, but never thinking anyone would assume he’d do it himself. 

He took a sip of his coffee, bittersweet. “Well. I guess that’s up to you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A particularly uncomfortable train ride.

**_Chapter 2_ ** _  
_

Mustang was reading the letter again when Hawkeye stepped into his office to leave another file. _  
_

_I’ve had some time to think about it. The scarred Ishvalan wore down the defenses by eliminating some of Amestris’s finest alchemists._

“Sir?” 

“Have you heard anything from Edward yet?” 

“Nothing. His rendezvous was this evening. I suspect we’ll hear something after he’s done or first thing in the morning. Are you certain this was a good idea?” 

“I couldn’t ignore it.” 

_In spite of peace time efforts, it would seem that conflicts still arise. You should be surrounded by capable hands._

The letter had been written by hand, the scrawling and nearly illegible script of an alchemist in the pursuit of a greater equation, a gamble on a positive reaction. The elegant prose had the feel of a code, an invitation to read between the lines. Mustang was well-versed in the tactic. 

_Perhaps it is time to put aside past transgressions. You and I have never seen eye to eye, but that has never stopped either of us from being effective, has it? I suppose this makes me strangely nostalgic, to reflect on how much I am missing._

“The last thing that you need to do is bring danger closer to you.” 

“Don’t you recall the old saying, Hawkeye? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” 

“I would prefer that you didn’t take that so literally, Sir.” 

“Edward knows what to look for.” 

_Find me._

/ 

The remainder of Zolf’s night was restless, anxious. They had agreed to meet at the train station the following afternoon, and the young man had said that he would be left behind if he was even a minute late. As if the Fullmetal Alchemist wasn’t already made of sterner stuff than half the men Zolf went to war with, there was now a maturity to him that hadn’t been there before. One that made working with him even more interesting as an ally as it had been when they were enemies. 

In fact, the idea of going back and working for those he had stood against was somewhat more unsettling than he’d originally thought. It had been a few months since he sent that letter to headquarters, and after no response, he thought he had been left to disappear. He was surprised to find that he had adjusted to the notion. Even back in Ishval, he thought Mustang too naïve, too green and too idealistic for his tastes. Despite Hughes’s efforts to treat them like buddies, it was still a strain, and theirs was more a rivalry than a friendship. The war pushed their goals further aside and partnering with the homunculi all but put a rift between them. 

_…closer to him…_

More and more, he felt the draw to be in the midst of all that fuss and idealism. The politicking and infighting. He needed to be closer to Mustang, and the only way to do that was to play nice. He wondered if he could do it. When sleep finally did catch up with him, it was so far into late that it was becoming early, and he was too unsettled to get any real rest. 

Packing was easy. In spite of being a man that had appreciated wealth and possessions, he hadn’t collected much since moving to New Optain. He had allowed himself some of his comfortable living and elegant clothing, but nothing too extravagant. His belongings, such as they were, went into a small suitcase. His clothes, his favorite alchemy texts and his current working journal. He locked up his modest apartment and went on his way. 

As promised, Edward was waiting for him on one of the benches, a paper bag sitting next to him and two travel cups of coffee down at his feet. 

“Here,” Edward said as he picked up one of the cups and thrust it in his direction. “I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t show so that I could keep this for myself.” 

“How thoughtful,” Zolf replied taking it from him. “You really shouldn’t have.” 

Ed snorted. “I know.” His golden eyes looked Zolf up and down. “Huh. You really did come. I really didn’t think you’d care enough.” 

“There’s a lot you wouldn’t know about me. We’ve barely had the opportunity to spend enough quality time together.” 

“Kimblee, when we spent _any_ time together, you were either trying to kill me or my brother.” 

“Not entirely true. I was merely meant to be a roadblock. If you recall, they really didn’t want either of you killed. You were far too important.” 

Ed smirked in such a way that Zolf knew the blonde had caught him. It was entirely too unpleasant. “Good to see you danced on strings like a good little puppet.” 

Losing his temper wouldn’t do either of them any good now, and he let it roll off his back, shrugging his shoulders with the same motion of dismissal. “We were both puppets, truth be told. Each of us did our part and played right into their little plans. Does that make you any happier to hear?” He knew by the look on Ed’s face that it didn’t. “Look, Edward, this entire ordeal is going to be a lot less difficult if we move on.” 

“Do you just want me to forget?” Ed said. The piercing whistle of the train kept him from waiting for Zolf’s answer. “Come on.” He pushed himself up from the bench, slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder, snatching up his food and coffee. Zolf sighed and followed him onto the train. 

The blonde led him to a car with a private section set aside for them. How accommodating Mustang had become. Ed ducked inside and Zolf followed, taking the seat across from where Ed threw himself on the cushions in a sprawl. He thought that the conversation was over, because his nearly unwilling partner didn’t speak again until the train had pulled out of the station. 

“You were siding with the monsters,” Ed rumbled, his voice low like the grind of the train as he stared out the window at the passing scenery. “And don’t give me that flowery bullshit about how you were only on your side and that you were waiting to see who won. You tipped the scales in their favor. You acted like one of them, and you let them pull your strings even more tightly than they pulled mine.” 

Zolf took a slow, deep breath. He didn’t know why he should offer any of this information up to Edward, but it seemed like it was going to be a bone of contention between them if he didn’t. “Did you forget that I was in possession of the Stone the entire time?” 

“So what does that have to do with anything?” 

Zolf raised an eyebrow. Either Ed didn’t understand or he didn’t want to. “Think about men like McDougal. Your paths crossed, didn’t they? Think about what was in the core of each and every one of those monsters. Then you ask me what it has to do with anything.” 

“So what you’re sayin’ is that the Philosopher’s Stone makes you crazy?” 

Zolf merely looked at him. Ed’s expression was peculiar. Was that disappointment? 

“You know, I was looking for a better goddamn reason than that.” 

“Sorry to let you down.” 

“Hmph. Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

They sat in silence once more. Zolf’s thoughts drifted back to Central. Just where did Mr. Mustang hide himself now? Surely, he had to be of a rank that would get him out of the measly dorms. Maybe in one of the HQ housing sectors? Maybe he stayed somewhere on the main grounds. It would be interesting to see how the other half lived. And what awaited him? 

“Did you help them kill Hughes?” 

Zolf’s blood ran cold, a heavy feeling settling in his gut at the words. He turned his attention away from where he’d been staring out the window to fix his gaze on the blonde. Once more, the other alchemist was watching him with intense scrutiny, as if the wrong answer would have broken their already tentative partnership. And that was probably very close to the truth. But Edward had no idea what kind of ground he was treading on, and he wondered if this was a carefully calibrated test from Mustang himself. One last failsafe before he got too involved. 

It was a hell of a test. 

“I didn’t help anyone kill Maes Hughes,” he answered, and it was absolute truth. If there was anyone that could have turned his tide in the battle, it was that lovesick twit. Without even wanting it to happen, the man had forged a careful friendship with him, one of the few men in the military that Kimblee ever would have admitted having a connection to. 

_“Hey. There’s a spot over by me if you wanted to have some food. Figured it was better than you being by yourself.”  
_

_Kimblee doesn’t look up. “I like being by myself.”  
_

_“Kinda boring, isn’t it? C’mon, just come over here. You’ve gotta try this. It’s actually edible.”_

“You were working for the monsters. The monsters killed Hughes.” 

Zolf’s eyes narrowed. “I knew _nothing_ about his death.” 

That had probably been on purpose. They wanted to use him, knew him well enough to drive his motivations towards things that wouldn’t distract him from their task at hand. Ed was right; he had been nothing more than a puppet. And now, with his strings cut, he could do nothing about that. Hughes had treated Mustang, and later Hawkeye, in that same unflinching manner. Trying to give them somewhere to belong, someone to turn to when things got too heavy for them to carry. Those broad shoulders had carried them through the war, and they probably would have carried Zolf too if he hadn’t been so drunk on the Stone he hadn’t cared. 

Whatever Ed had been looking for in Zolf’s face, he seemed satisfied with the results. He leaned back in his seat, once more turning his gaze to the window. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I miss him too.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting over can be just like old times.

**_Chapter 3_**

He didn’t know why he should have ever expected to stand out, at least not at the train station. When Zolf and Ed stepped out onto the platform, they became just like every other person moving about with someplace to be. The people brushing by couldn’t care less about who he was or why he was there, and he was quickly reminded why he had missed Central. He took a deep breath of the city air and picked up his suitcase. 

Once out of the station, Ed wound Zolf through the city, and it was clear they weren’t going to HQ. Instead, he took the man farther south, away from the massive government base. He veered sharply and pushed his way into a bar that Zolf would have missed entirely on his own. The pungent smell of cigarettes and beer hit him hard, and he made a face at it, glancing over at Ed with a raised eyebrow. The younger man had wrinkled his nose as well, but he was looking around for something. A hand rose and fell from a table at the back of the bar, almost lost in a smoky haze. When Zolf focused, he recognized Mustang’s face, and just beyond that, Hawkeye’s. 

“Here you go,” Ed said as they got close enough to be heard over the din of the after-work crowd. “One traitor, delivered. See you tomorrow.” Without another word or waiting for Mustang’s response, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the bar. 

Mustang smirked. “I see you two are getting along well.” 

“Splendid. Just like old times.” Zolf set down his suitcase and perched neatly on the stool across from Mustang. He expected the way the man looked at him, not even a little bit surprised that Hawkeye’s attention was accompanied by a disapproving frown and a stance that allowed her to draw and fire at a moment’s notice. “What happens now?” 

Mustang reached into the breast pocket of his black military issue duster, pulling out a packet of papers that had been loosely folded in thirds. “You should familiarize yourself with this. Get to know where you’ve been for the last few years. If you slip up in front of the board, I can’t help you.” He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward, eyes heated. “But you know how to talk a good game, don’t you?” 

“I can hold my own.” Zolf looked down at the papers slowly uncurling from their folds like a door opening into something unknown. He would have to get to know who Zolf Kimblee, the Crimson Alchemist, was all over again. Just like he would have to learn who men like Flame and Fullmetal had become in the aftermath of the Promised Day. Mustang and Hawkeye watched him settle the final decision, and he didn’t meet their eyes until after he reached for the document. “How long do I have?” 

“I’ve arranged for you to stay at a local hotel out of my own pocket. You’ve got one week to make this work, Kimblee. Don’t let this be a waste of my time.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

/

It was just like old times. Battles fought beyond his fingertips, blood spilled in petty fights. In Ishval, he had stayed behind because the desert blazed far too brightly and there was little cover to be had from the chilled moon. In some distant, fragmented memory, a part of him remembers waiting in Xerces too. He was part of a whole back then, but a very strong part that shared the elation when the city went to ruins and the humans fell in a river of blood. He longed for the blood to flow again, but he had to be patient. His entire existence had been meant for the Promised Day, and with the Plan in ruins and no one to rely on but himself, it wouldn’t be so easy to indulge in the absolute carnage that would feed him. 

No, his vision for the future was sharper and more focused. Obstacles were in the way, ones that were within striking distance, yet impossible to strike. This body was weak, and it fought him in the daylight hours. He wasn’t used to that. 

But something had changed. In the far reaches of himself, where muted souls quietly cried, something had stirred. It tugged at his awareness, made him curious. 

It felt like something had found its way home. 

/ 

Zolf rolled his shoulders in the stiff uniform jacket. It didn’t feel like his tailored suits and shirts, but at least it was a familiar weight. He spotted Mustang approaching from across the courtyard, Hawkeye and Fullmetal flanking him as he did so. He remembered when the same man had all but dragged himself across the desert with dead eyes, and the memory fell into sharp relief against the confident stride Mustang had now. Things had definitely changed, especially now that he was Zolf’s superior officer. He could take the slight blow to his pride that answering to Mustang would deliver knowing that he hadn’t chosen to follow someone weak. 

“Major Kimblee.” 

Zolf’s raised his hand in salute. “Sir.” 

“Congratulations on your reinstatement.” 

“Thank you, Sir.” He pushed himself into the role, under the intense scrutiny of the two blondes witnessing the encounter. 

“Going forward, you are under my command and will serve my office. Due to your past record, your first ninety days of service are considered probationary. There are no second chances. One mistake will have you discharged, and you can forget about any chance of returning after that. Do you understand, Major?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good.” Mustang relaxed his stance and held out his hand. “I still can’t believe you’re here.” 

Zolf clasped his hand and shook it firmly. “That makes two of us. I hope we can—“ 

“Sir, get down!” 

Bullets rained down on the courtyard. 

/ 

Hawkeye issued the warning seconds before the first jarring cracks of gunfire erupted across the courtyard. Zolf and Mustang tore their hands away from one another, both men hitting the ground and rolling. The decorative brick pathway exploded in a trail of gunpowder and stone, a trail leading to where Mustang was getting to his feet. The small group scattered and Hawkeye already had her pistols out, firing in the direction of the shots. But the sun was behind the walls, blazing into her face and illuminating the polished metal of her weapons. Her brandy-colored eyes were squinting, tearing across the perimeter for somewhere to lock on. There wasn’t enough time for her to find who was responsible; they were out in the open without any cover. 

Ed scrambled to get closer to them, running completely on instinct. The gunshots took him right back to the old days. He hurried to put himself between the snipers and Mustang. His hands came together in a loud clap, and he dropped to his knees, palms to the ground. 

Nothing happened. 

Terror sounded like explosions, gunshots and heartbeats pounding in his ears. He didn’t know how long he stayed on all fours, waiting for something that would never come. He should have been shot. 

The ground beneath him suddenly flared to life. Alchemy rippled from behind him, pulsing under his knees first and then his hands. In a matter of seconds, the ruined brickwork and the earth beneath it rose up in a protective half-circle over them, making the sounds of gunfire soften so that the thundering in Ed’s chest was the loudest thing. Yet, he still stayed down, gasping for breath as if he’d been kicked in the lungs. 

“Mustang!” Kimblee called out. 

“I’m fine. Grazed. Hawkeye!” 

“I’m on it, Sir!” With her pistols still drawn, she took off at a run, a hound on the hunt. 

Ed finally came back to himself, and he shakily got to his feet. Kimblee was watching him with a severe gaze, and Mustang glanced back and forth between them with a furrowed brow. 

“You all right?” 

“Fine,” Ed shot back with more attitude than he’d intended. “You’d better get your ass inside before someone else starts firing at you.” He dusted off his hands and clothes, taking a moment to look up at the stone wall. He noticed that the gunshots had ceased; the worst was over. He reached out and ran his hand over the stone, quietly admiring the craftsmanship. It lasted only a moment, and he ignored the two men watching him as he headed inside to the library.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Us and our shadows.

**_Chapter 4_**

Zolf’s first day back at the office finished with far less excitement than it started. No one else tried to kill Mustang. Hawkeye didn’t come back to her desk until well into the afternoon, and when she did, she had her handwritten report from attack and a body count. There had been three snipers, and she made it pretty clear in her clipped dialogue on the matter that Mustang was damn lucky they weren’t as good as she was. Zolf immersed himself in the more mundane activities of the office until the day was done. 

“I don’t know about you,” Mustang’s voice called to him as he was reaching for his coat, “but I think getting shot at on your first day back deserves a drink.” 

“You mean this isn’t how you welcome all new recruits into your unit?” Zolf replied, turning to look at him. He smirked. “I’ll let you buy me a drink.” 

“How generous. Come on.” 

They took a booth at the bar they’d met in a few weeks ago, the first day Zolf came back to Central. It felt like a long time ago and also like yesterday. He raised his glass and Mustang’s met it with a clink. 

“So this is what I’ve been missing, hmm?” 

Mustang took a sip of his scotch. “More or less. This is the first time we’ve had a breach that far onto HQ grounds, but I won’t deny that the status quo has been somewhat dicey.” He flashed Kimblee a mocking smirk. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that it could be a coin toss whether someone was trying to take out you or me.” 

Zolf snorted, but he was amused nonetheless. “Very funny, Mustang.” He shrugged as if he didn’t care who they were firing at. “Though it I find it quite impressive how fast word travels around here. Secretaries are hardly subtle.” 

“Maybe they just want your number.” 

“Jealous?” 

“Not on your life.” Dark eyes pinned him, quietly searching his face. 

Zolf sighed. “You want to know why I came back.” 

“The thought _did_ cross my mind once or twice.” 

“I thought that I was pretty clear in my letter.” 

“Your letter gave me a vague reason or two as to why I should have considered the idea at all. They say nothing about your motives. What do you want?” 

“When Amestris went to war with Ishval, we waited, knowing that eventually we’d have to get involved. When I got arrested because of the Stone and heard promises that my time would come, I waited. And even from inside that homunculus, Promised Day loomed on the horizon, and I waited. It would have been the same in New Optain. Sitting and waiting for something to happen, for something that would force me to go back to everything I knew. I got tired of waiting and decided to make the first move.” The whiskey was sharp on his tongue when he paused. “Edward was right. Many of us were puppets.” 

“Isn’t that the truth,” Mustang grumbled. “And those that weren’t puppets were expendable.” 

Another drink, a longer one so that it burned down Zolf’s throat. “Maes was always too smart for his own good. I’m willing to bet that he had it all figured out before anyone else.” 

“Of course. He always did.” 

They drank in a silent tribute to Hughes, and Zolf called for another round afterwards. 

“What happened with Fullmetal today?” 

Mustang let out a slow breath, smiling to the waitress who exchanged their empty glasses for new ones, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think you saw it with your own eyes. The ‘what’ isn’t what you’re looking for, it’s ‘why’, and that’s not my business to tell. All I can say is that couple of years ago, he wandered into my office, slung himself in my chair and said, ‘Well, Mustang, whatcha got for me?’ I pulled some strings to get him a research position in the alchemic branch of the library, and he’s been there ever since.” 

Zolf nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose we both can’t leave well enough alone.” It had been very peculiar to see the young man at a loss, without alchemy at his beck and call. He had always considered Fullmetal to be a worthy adversary, and he wondered if the lack of the art made him any less so. Though if Mustang had chosen to keep him close, he doubted that was the case. 

“There is something else he probably didn’t tell you, and it’s pretty relevant to you.” 

“Oh?” 

“Selim Bradley is alive.” 

Zolf felt a chill run down his spine, his shoulders tightening. But Mustang had more to say. 

“When Edward managed to drive out and destroy Pride, its shell was left behind, an infant. The Elrics insisted that it be given to Mrs. Bradley, since she had lost both a husband and a son in the uprising. In the last five years, he’s grown up like a normal kid, and we keep a close eye on him.” 

“The Elrics are too kind.” 

“They keep us human, Kimblee.” Mustang said it with the tone of someone that spoke from experience. “Maybe if you spend enough time around one of them, you’ll remember what it was like.” 

/ 

_Voices. The voices are always the first thing he notices. His tongue dances around the Stone, the power filling his veins and making his hands tingle. The little rock tastes like blood and alchemy, and the back of his mind is an incessant chatter of souls in discord. The chaos of it only spikes his adrenaline, makes him hungrier for the sounds of destruction. What makes it sweeter is that he is under orders to_ indulge _. And indulge he does.  
_

_He can’t understand why that leaves him in handcuffs when they return to Central. It doesn’t make sense to be called a traitor and a comrade killer when he had every encouragement out in the desert. But he didn’t let them take the Stone from him, and Fuhrer Bradley oversees his delivery into a solitary prison cell. As the guards give them some space, the man’s voice speaks over that of the souls in his mouth, ringing in his head. “Just be patient. Your time will come.”  
_

_The voices are there when he is consumed by Pride, the commotion having built over the centuries, thick and sticky, tugging at his soul. But by now, he’s already used to it, those agonized pleas for freedom, and he settles in like it’s home. There is still a Stone here, there is still a place for him to live on. And his time will still come._

Zolf woke up in a sweat, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling as he returned to the silence of his bedroom. The clock in the next room could be heard ticking, it was so quiet. He pushed himself up a bit against the pillows, wiping his brow. “Remember what it’s like, hmm?” he murmured. 

_Find me._

/ 

Selim visited the next day, full of questions and a very obvious concern over Roy’s safety. The Flame Alchemist noticed that when the little boy strode purposefully into his office to check up on him, there were now two pairs of watchful eyes on him. Hawkeye and Kimblee both had their guard up, and Roy tried to divide his attention between Selim and the way that Kimblee was looking at him. He ultimately decided to let the other two do their job and focused on reassuring Selim he was fine. 

“I was really worried about you, Mr. Mustang,” he said, strangely colored eyes full of the worry he spoke of, sincere. “I heard that there were lots of guns and that you got hit.” 

“It wasn’t so bad, Selim.” Roy pointed to his upper arm. The sleeve of his uniform was slightly different there, the threads and fibers of the fabric shifted from when he repaired the hole with alchemy. “One just barely nicked me. I still had to go see a medic though, but all I got was a bandage. I can’t even brag about stitches.” 

“Did you make the big wall appear?” 

“I wish I did. But that was my new friend, Major Kimblee.” He pointed out to the main office where Kimblee sat, looking for all the world like he was arranging files, but in truth hadn’t taken his eyes off them. 

Selim turned to look where Roy was pointing, and he wondered what Kimblee had seen on the boy’s face to narrow his eyes. All Roy saw when the round face and big eyes tilted back to him was a beaming smile. “So he’s an alchemist too, Mr. Mustang?” 

Roy nodded. 

“That’s so awesome!” 

“See, Selim? I told you that everything was all right,” Mrs. Bradley told him, giving Roy her standard bow and apologetic smile. “Come along now or you’ll be late for school.” 

With a groan, Selim pulled away from Roy and scampered over to his mother. “I’ll come back and check up on you, Mr. Mustang!” he announced. He stopped in front of Kimblee’s desk and that intensely unsettled look appeared on the man’s face again. “Welcome, new friend Major Kimblee!” 

_Welcome home._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why it was all worth it.

**_Chapter 5_**

Despite receiving his certification in Central, Zolf never spent a significant amount of time in the library. He had gone in to take some books for his research, but really hadn’t much opportunity to really explore. Now that he had something specific he was looking for, he finally got a good look at just how much was there at his fingertips. It would give him plenty of reason to come back, but his focus that day wasn’t the books. 

He found Ed in one of the back study rooms, the blonde bent over an open tome and his journal. Stacks of various books and a few scrolls were built like walls around the edges of the table as if they’d shield him from anything beyond his little world. In fact, he didn’t even notice Zolf’s arrival until he was within arm’s reach. 

“I’m busy,” he said without looking up. 

Zolf took a seat in the nearest chair. “You can’t use your alchemy.” 

The scratching sound of Ed’s pen against the page came to an abrupt halt. “I told you before just to call me Ed.” 

“I thought that only meant we were dispensing with formality.” 

“That’ll teach you to assume, won’t it?” Golden eyes finally turned up to him, and Zolf recognized resignation when the temper faded. “Look, it is what it is, all right? It’s not a big deal. You got to save the general and make a really good impression on your first day. Everybody wins.” 

“And you continue your research in spite of being unable to use it.” 

“This is all I have now.” Ed’s hand swept around to indicate the vast library. This far back in the stacks, the air was somewhat musty, ripe with the scents of old leather and worn paper. Underneath the more earthy presence, the traces of alchemy were there. “I can still feel it, I can still understand it, and I can still study it. It’s enough.” 

Zolf leaned back in his chair, frowning. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to know everything he did and could do with alchemy, yet never be able to make a reaction again. Ed knew how good he had it without ever being able to go back. “The final battle—“ 

“I realized something then. I never had a difficult time remembering the law of equivalent exchange. But it hadn’t occurred to me that alchemy itself could be a price. From the moment we’re born, we all have the opportunity to open up that door, and everything we build inside of it is something we can give up. Fascinating, huh?” 

“Edward—“ 

“He’s in Xing now. Spent the first couple of years in his own body trying to figure out how to use it again. Now he can eat anything he wants, sleep all day and know what Winry’s apple pie smells like. Before you say anything about what I gave up, I already know that I’d do it again and again for what I got in return.” 

The realization washed over Zolf, and he closed his eyes, letting out the breath he’d been holding. An apology was on the tip of his tongue, the polite thing to say, but Ed wasn’t the kind of guy that would tolerate anyone feeling sorry for a choice he made. After another moment, he opened his mouth to speak. “You could have said something.” 

“C’mon, Kimblee, show a little respect for a man’s pride, would ya?” Ed’s grin was rueful. “’sides, I had to make sure that you would actually risk your own ass to save the old man. Glad you didn’t screw it up.” 

Zolf’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still a brat.” 

“And you’re still an asshole. We all have our faults.” 

/ 

When Zolf left the library, it was close to ten. Edward was still there studying, too caught up in a theory to be convinced he should leave, even to get a late dinner. Hungry himself, Kimblee took his leave and started the walk back to his apartment with a couple of books tucked under his arm. 

“Good night, Mr. Major Kimblee!” 

The sound of Selim’s voice made Zolf twitch, but he tried to heed Mustang’s words as he turned in the direction it had come from. The boy was heading across the courtyard with his mother, heading towards the upper echelon housing units. Vera Bradley and her “son” were still being treated like a President’s family, continuing their residency on government property. Zolf thought it had been ridiculous to treat them as such, especially when the boy had presented such a problem before. But reigning Fuhrer Grumman must have had a soft spot for the woman’s losses, for she continued to stay close and let Selim associate with powerful men who would take King Bradley’s place as his role models. 

Inwardly sighing, Zolf raised his hand in salute to Mrs. Bradley, then gave Selim a lackluster wave. “Good night.” 

Dappled in the dim lights from the perimeter sconces, the shadows played games with his eyes, made the pair look too innocent to be true. Selim’s smile came off more sinister than it might have been in the daylight and made Mrs. Bradley look older and more tired. With a wave of his own, Selim tugged his mother’s arm to continue on their way.  Zolf frowned and turned his back on them to do the same, unable to shake that unsettled feeling that had taken root in the back of his mind, like a weight against his neck. 

His footsteps echoed across the courtyard. It was difficult to tell that there had been an assassination attempt here not too long ago. He’d returned the morning after to reverse the reaction, tearing down the wall and reshaping the stones without their bullet wounds. Like nothing had ever happened. It was something of a marvel to him how much time the military spent in that endeavor, always trying to wipe the slate clean. The line was always blurred on whether it was to start fresh or pretend the mistakes didn’t happen in the first place. He thought he was alone with his thoughts until a child’s voice echoed after him. 

“Sweet dreams!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to figure out which one of the monsters is a threat.

**_Chapter 6_**

_It’s pitch black, but he knows he’s not alone. The air around him feels alive, and things are whispering softly against his soul like a long-lost lover. Shadows move like a fog lifting, still leaving him in the dark, but slowly unveiling the expanse of Roy Mustang’s office. The man’s large chair is turned towards the window, into the empty void beyond. Without seeing Mustang clearly, he knows he’s there and his usual watchdog is nowhere to be found. His feet step silently across an inky floor, carrying him towards his target. As he gets closer, the voices are louder, his head pounding.  
_

…ruined everything…made me like this...why am I here?... 

_He easily recognizes the tingling in his hands, the start of a reaction. He’s missed it, the smell of burning flesh, the sound of destruction, the feeling of victory. It is time to reclaim that sense of being alive, of doing what he was meant to do, of taking care of the problem.  
_

_He is behind the chair now; he swears he can hear Mustang breathing. He would rather hear Mustang_ screaming _.  
_

_“It’s not good for you to stay up so late, Mr. Mustang.”  
_

_He lay his hands on the Flame Alchemist’s shoulders in a way that most would find comforting. There is no comfort in the way that alchemy unravels Mustang in rapid, explosive force, only sheer destructive beauty. The window looking out into the empty haze before them is suddenly decorated in red, and laughter fills the room._

/ 

“You look like shit.” 

Ed didn’t feel guilty about the statement, even when it earned him a tired glare. The last several months had been more of the same, his unintentional study partner looking more and more like he slept less and less. There was nothing Kimblee could do to hide the darkness under his eyes and the wary way he was looking at everything now. Ed had kept watch over him, waiting for the moment when his worst fears would take shape and the Crimson Alchemist would betray their trust. Instead, they had spent several nights in the library, sharing a study room and working quietly on their own agendas. Every so often, a question would come up between them that would leave them debating theory halfway into the morning. For someone that had been painted as an utter psychopath, Kimblee was one of those brilliant alchemists that Ed never had the chance to work with before. 

Kimblee had a cup of coffee from the mess hall in hand that added warmth to the scents of old books and alchemy. He settled in across from Ed and reached for the book he’d left off on the night before. It seemed he wasn’t going to rise to the bait, not even with a sharp-tongued comeback. Ed took it as a sign to push harder. 

“Been out all night with some other alchemist? You should know that you’re not gonna find one better than me.” 

“And I thought Mustang’s ego could fill a room.” 

Yes, that was a little more like it. “Mustang could take some pointers from both of us by now. He’s so busy kissing ass that he’s probably rusty.” 

A soft snort was Kimblee’s response. That still wasn’t good enough. 

“So what’s your problem?” 

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” he sighed. 

Silence lingered between them, Kimblee’s brows furrowed, and it almost seemed like he wouldn’t react again. Finally, “I think that something is wrong, and I’m not certain what. Every time I try to reach for it, it’s gone.” He looked at Ed, and whether Kimblee meant for it or not, Ed could clearly see the weariness that had been building up. 

“That why it looks like you haven’t slept in days?” 

“That is most likely why it feels that way.” 

Ed frowned, feeling unease twisting at his gut. He hated that. “Something wrong, huh? And you don’t know what it is. Don’t suppose it’s just a guilty conscience speakin’ up?” 

This time when Kimblee narrowed his eyes at him, he had the grace to feel a little regret for being an ass. But only a little. It didn’t stop him from keeping his gaze trained on the man’s face, looking for any sign of being right. He hadn’t survived this long without a healthy amount of paranoia and knives in his back to substantiate it. If Kimblee was going to turn on them, he wanted to be ready for it. 

“What if I told you I have been worried that the monsters aren’t gone?” 

Ed wasn’t ready for _that_. He shuddered. The idea that there could still be homunculi when he didn’t have alchemy made the prospect absolutely terrifying. But the notion seemed improbable. After everything that they had done, Mustang had worked with all the right people to sweep Central, remove every last trace of them and the Stone. They’d been diligently overseeing new State Alchemists and following up on any and all cases regarding rogue alchemy. Everyone had been so careful. 

“I would tell you that it’s a pretty big stretch, but I’m still listening.” 

“More specifically, I think that one in particular is still here.” 

Ed wasn’t stupid. “One you’ve been acquainted with before.” 

Kimblee knew he’d picked up on the hint and didn’t need to confirm. 

“Fuck, Kimblee…” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Mustang’s had a detail watching that kid for the last five years. If there was a sign, wouldn’t they have noticed something by now?” In spite of that, he knew that the homunculi had made it second nature to blend in with the humans in one way or another. They were the experts in duplicity and slow takeovers; it made Ed sick to his stomach. 

The worst of his fears made themselves at home when Kimblee raised a dark eyebrow at him. “Have they ever watched him at night?” 

/ 

“Selim, darling, it’s time to get up for school.” 

The door to his bedroom opened, and Selim made a whining noise, pulling the blankets over his head. Vera frowned and approached the bed, tugging gently at the covers to reveal his sleep-mussed dark hair. One eye cracked open to look up at her, and he made another noise. 

“Mommy, I’m tired.” 

Concerned, she reached out, pressing her wrist to his forehead. His skin felt just fine under her touch, and she swept her fingers through his hair. He hadn’t been coughing or sneezing lately, and he’d eaten so much at dinner that it should have been the only reason he’d be sick. Yet, he didn’t show any signs of coming down with something, so why was he fatigued? 

“You can take a nap after school today,” she told him, hoping for some kind of compromise. She wasn’t used to him being fussy about staying in bed instead of going to school. 

“Okay,” he said, dragging it out in a drawled resignation, pouting. 

Even in his resistance, he was so precious to her. She smiled to show him she was pleased and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “I’ll make your favorite for breakfast, all right?” She straightened and headed towards the door. “But you have to get up and get dressed.” 

“Yes, Mommy.” Already he was kicking weakly at the covers to get up, stifling a yawn stubbornly as he did so. 

“There’s my good boy,” she crooned. 

/ 

 “You want me to _what_?” 

“You heard me, old man. I want you to give him one of your gloves.” Ed looked at Roy insistently, standing in front of his desk with his arms crossed. It was how so many conversations in the past had started; it was like an old game to them. 

“Why?” 

This was going to be the hard part. “Look, it’s just a theory, but if we’re going to protect your lazy ass, we have to follow up on it.” Mustang shot him a look that clearly said to continue. He steepled his hands on his desk as he leaned forward. “Kimblee thinks that Pride might still be around.” 

Mustang’s pale skin shifted to something more faded, his dark eyes heavy and now full of caution. 

“Don’t ask me to explain it, but whether I believe him or not, you really don’t want me to ignore it, do you?” 

Roy shook his head, as disturbed by the notion as Ed was. 

“So I have a this idea that there’s gotta be a reason why _Kimblee_ would pick up on this while the rest of us have gone on like normal all this time. If he’s still somehow connected, I want to know about it.” 

“Do you think he’s going to turn on us?” Mustang voiced the question that Ed had been asking himself for the last few days. 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I hope not, Roy. But that’s why we’re gonna find out if he’s right. So, you gonna give me that glove or not?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's hoping that, just this once, he's wrong.

**_Chapter 7_**

Zolf was about as comfortable with Ed’s plan as he would have been with being put in an enclosed space with a predator. Which was, in fact, the plan. He ran his finger over the ignition cloth in his hand, careful not to let the array stitched into Mustang’s glove touch his palm. The very fabric felt like alchemy, some of the symbols and lines similar to his own brand of the art. He lingered in the front vestibule of the Bradley home with two guards from the MP eyeing him warily from time to time. The butler had gone off to get Mrs. Bradley and Selim while he waited. They were just finishing dinner and the sun was long gone. 

“Good evening, Major Kimblee.” Mrs. Bradley’s voice was warm and welcoming. At the core of the formality, Zolf had the impression that she was entirely sincere in her actions. It made the prospect of her being a victim again that much more disappointing. “I told Selim to wash up before he came out. What brings you here this evening?” 

He saluted her then held out his hand. “General Mustang has been involved in a lot of work lately and hasn’t been able to see Selim as much. He asked if I would bring this to him on my way back to my dorm.” 

The woman beamed at him. “You’ll pass along our thanks, won’t you? He didn’t have to do this, but Selim will be thrilled.” Her eyes were momentarily sad. “Ever since I lost his father, I’ve tried to give him what I could. But he really latched on to the Colonel. He’s the father figure that I can’t give my son, and I’m grateful for that.” 

Zolf felt his teeth aching. It would figure that Mustang would make such an impression on a little kid, especially one that might turn out to be a traitor at any point. In spite of getting stronger, his rival never really changed. “I’ll be certain to pass along the message, ma’am.” 

She looked as though she might continue the conversation, but Selim burst into the room with a delighted greeting, and Zolf felt an involuntary shudder run through him when the boy latched onto his leg. 

“Thank you for visiting, Mr. Kimblee!” Selim said excitedly, looking up at him with bright eyes. “Is Mr. Mustang with you?” 

It took a moment for Kimblee to find his voice, but he did, meeting his stare with all the indifference he could muster. Unlike his commanding officer, he would not be taken by a tragic family story and childish adoration. “I’m afraid not. But he did send something with me to give to you.” 

“For me?” Selim looked genuinely surprised, pulling back to bounce on the balls of his feet in anticipation. “What? What?” 

Kimblee lowered his hand to offer Selim the glove and watched the round face light up even more. “Wow, is this…what he makes fire with?” 

“Yes. You won’t be able to use it, but he thought you would like to have it.” When Selim took it from him, it felt like he was handing him a loaded pistol. 

“Look, Mommy! Look what Mr. Mustang gave me! I’ll learn to make fire someday too!” 

“There is plenty of time for that, don’t you think?” 

He stuck out his lower lip in a pout. “Yeah, I guess.” The dejected expression changed to a smile in a heartbeat, and he snatched Kimblee’s hand so suddenly the man jumped. “Can I show him my other treasures, Mommy, please?” Kimblee bit his tongue to stifle an outright objection, clammy little fingers against his array making his skin crawl. 

Mrs. Bradley looked at Kimblee apologetically. “Selim, I’m sure Mr. Kimblee has somewhere to be this evening.” 

It was an out that he wanted to take so badly he could taste it, but Zolf shook his head. “I can spare a few minutes for this, but then I really should be going.” 

“Of course. Don’t keep him long, Selim.” 

Selim didn’t wait long enough to respond, tugging Zolf up the grand staircase and down an opulent hallway, the alchemist all the while resisting the urge to yank his hand free. He got his wish when they stopped outside of one of the many doors lining the hall. Selim got up on his toes and turned the handle with his free hand, heading into his room. Zolf wiped his hand on his uniform trousers when the boy wasn’t looking. 

“Come in, Mr. Kimblee.” 

Zolf’s chest tightened as he shut the door, and he instinctively reached for the light switch. 

“Oh, please don’t. I can see just fine.” 

The room was dark, thick curtains drawn to keep out the lights from outside and shadows from a child’s four-post bed loomed along the walls like little creatures waiting to strike. Zolf had no choice but to think that was closer to the truth than he ever would have wanted. He focused all of his attention on the most dangerous thing in the room, who was heading over to a chest of drawers. Selim pulled out one on the bottom and pulled out a box that almost didn’t fit into his arms. It dropped to the floor with a thud, and Zolf hated that the sound made him jump. Every inch of his skin burned with a visceral urge to turn and leave while a darker place in him moved  to step closer. His palms ached; he wanted to destroy the box and the boy opening it. 

“This is where I keep important things, Mr. Kimblee. I’ll put Mr. Mustang’s glove in here too.” The voice still rang with a child’s vocal range, but with the words of something much older. Zolf felt the boulder drop in the pit of his stomach. Just this once he didn’t want to be right. 

“I’m certain you’re going to take very good care of it,” he found himself saying, as if he still needed to keep up the act. “You’re such a lucky little boy.” 

“Aren’t I? To know such powerful people.” The lid was dropped to the side, and in the darkness, he saw the shapes of things any little kid would keep as a treasured possession. In fact, Mustang’s glove seemed out of place within it. 

Selim’s hand stroked over a smaller wooden box within and Zolf’s nostrils flared as he caught the scents of tainted alchemy and blood. He forgot about Pride in the discovery of something even more intimately familiar. His mouth began to water. 

“In here is something my Father saved for me. In case I ever need it. But Mommy always said I should share. Do you want to see what it is?” 

Zolf didn’t have to see it; he was sure he already knew what it was, and he wanted it and rejected it in equal amounts. He missed that power while knowing he would miss having his mind. “No, that’s all right,” he managed to choke out, his voice thick and his fists clenched. “That’s yours.” 

“Yes,” Pride murmured, eyes regarding him in a glowing haze. “But it could be yours.” 

“Selim!” Mrs. Bradley’s voice pierced the hallway, finding its way to the room as her steps could be heard approaching. 

Zolf took a sharp breath of air as if someone had removed the vise from around his lungs. He reached out to hit the switch on the lamp atop the dresser. The figure before him hissed and closed the lid on the box as Zolf took hasty steps back. 

“I know, I know, Mommy! We were just finishing up.” It was Selim’s grin that beamed up at him but Pride’s satisfaction behind it. “You’ll come back to see me, won’t you, Mr. Kimblee?” It wasn’t really a question; Zolf heard the confidence that it would come to pass. He didn’t want to give it the satisfaction. 

“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Bradley.” Zolf saluted her as he passed her in the doorway. “I’ll show myself out.” 

It took everything he had not to run.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revisiting the nightmare.

**_Chapter 8_   
**

Roy knew the minute Kimblee walked into his office the next morning that the news wasn’t going to be good. He motioned to Hawkeye to shut the door behind the man. Ed had been sprawled on the couch across from his desk with an alchemy book to await Crimson’s arrival as well. That book had been put aside so he could hear what Kimblee had to say. That the man was anxious was an understatement. While he did an excellent job of appearing untroubled, the tight line of his mouth and the set of his shoulders said quite the opposite. 

“Well?” Ed asked impatiently. 

Kimblee looked at him, then closed his eyes. “Pride exists. And it has a Stone.” 

/ 

_“What were you thinking?” Maes’s voice was admonishing, sounding like a parent before he ever had the chance to be.  
_

_Kimblee regards him with a careless shrug. “What did I need to think about? I had orders to destroy, and that’s what I did. Was that not what we had been sent there to do? We knew from the moment we started that it was a slaughter.”  
_

_Maes sighs, the sound carrying in the empty prison hallway. “You are not a sloppy guy, Zolf. You never have been. You and Mustang could light a match with your alchemy and not hit anything else around it. Then all of a sudden, you can’t control yourself enough to save your own squadron. Roy managed.”  
_

_“I don’t appreciate being compared to him, Hughes. Mustang is weak. He doesn’t have what it takes to win.”  
_

_“I didn’t think someone like you cared about winning anything.” Hughes won’t drop it, and it both amuses and annoys him. “You’re a different man than I knew in academy.”  
_

_“The same could be said for all of us, and you know it.” Kimblee rolls the Stone over his tongue like candy, feeling the way it resonates in his arrays. “You just have to decide whether you are going to live with those changes or crawl away with your tail between your legs. Are you going to touch your lady with those hands, Hughes? Are they clean enough?”  
_

_Hughes doesn’t say anything for a long time, yet he doesn’t walk away either. That’s the biggest problem with him. He never walks away when he should. “You’re not Zolf Kimblee. If you happen to see him around, let me know.”  
_

_Kimblee has no idea that when Hughes finally does walk away, he’s never coming back.  
_

/ 

Ed knew for a fact that Kimblee had been staring at the same page in his book for the last hour. He recognized the array up at the corner of one of the pages, and it hadn’t changed since the other man had opened the tome. It had been like this for days, tension spilling over into everything that he did while Mustang deliberated on a course of action to follow. Removing Pride had to be a delicate operation, and Ed himself felt useless when he couldn’t use his alchemy like he had last time. Kimblee hadn’t said much since his conversation with them telling them what he had seen and heard the night he visited the Bradley home. It was different from their normal, more companionable silence when they studied together, and he didn’t like it. He couldn’t concentrate like this. 

“That’s it.” He slammed his book shut and Kimblee’s head snapped up just in time to have Edward in his face. The former alchemist leaned in on the table, looking expectantly at Kimblee, their noses only inches apart. “So what’re you gonna do about this?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Well, Pride and that Stone he’s got is kinda your problem, you know? After all, you’re the one who felt him and he obviously wants to make up for lost time with you.” 

“Is this another one of your backhanded ways of asking me if I’m going to betray you?” Kimblee sounded even more tired, most of the heat gone from his voice. 

“Are you gonna?” 

“No, Edward, I’m not going to. But…” 

“But what?” 

He inhaled slowly, looking down at the journal sitting next to his open book. “I think I need to go back.” 

“Why?” 

“Think about it. He, like you, expects me to betray Mustang. He knows he has my Achilles Heel sitting in a box of toys, and he’s waiting for me to reclaim it. The whole reason that no one is making a move right now is because he hasn’t made any moves that can be seen as a threat. Mustang taking action against a five-year-old boy will not help his cause any, and Pride knows it.” 

“You, on the other hand, have tasted that power and know what it gives you,” Ed finished for him, still watching the other man’s face. If the discontent he saw in Kimblee’s eyes was an act, it was a damn good one. “Pride probably thinks that it’s enough to make you turn on people you call your friends again.” 

“That is my theory, yes.” 

Ed fell silent for a moment, then grinned. “All right. Go for it.” He relished the sharp intake of breath from Kimblee, then let the other shoe fall. “But I’m going with you.” 

“Absolutely not,” he said sharply. 

Even Ed was taken aback by Kimblee’s vehemence. “Why not?” he demanded. 

A few moments passed in silence. “I’ve dreamed of killing you too.” Kimblee’s gaze trailed to his hands on the table top, as if he were reliving the memory. He probably was. 

The blonde frowned, then reached out, taking those hands and tipping his head back a little. The moment Kimblee’s hands touched his throat, he felt the crackle of quiescent alchemy, intimately understanding how the explosive technique worked. Each hand was an incomplete array, unbalanced partners, and whatever was unfortunate enough to be between them was the material. _He_ was the material, and he could feel the reaction waiting for the command to reduce him to pieces. Beneath that, Kimblee’s pulse was racing as fast as his own, the two of them locked in the intimate danger Ed had placed himself in. “You don’t want to kill me, do you?” he whispered. 

Kimblee’s eyes widened, and his fingers twitched under Ed’s. “No.” 

“Then I’m coming with you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation and an epilogue.

**_Chapter 9_**

“Mr. Kimblee! You came back to visit me!” 

Ed made himself stand his ground, though the urge to put himself between Selim and Zolf was there. Still, he couldn’t let anything show. Trying to hide what they were doing from the monster within was going to be difficult enough as it was. Zolf’s hand lingered his shoulder possessively, fingers digging in where his automail scars were. Selim came running towards them, looking for all the world like his two best friends had come to visit. 

“I brought Edward here to see you too,” Zolf said cordially. “I thought you might like to show him your treasures too. He would probably like to see.” 

“Really? The Fullmetal Alchemist wants to see me?” 

It was such a good act. Pride had the practice of wearing a human skin nearly perfected, and Ed couldn’t help the visceral tremor heading down his back. 

“Yeah, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it, Selim?” Ed laughed, the sound easygoing. “But you can just call me Ed now. You don’t need to use my title.” 

Something about the way Selim smiled at him gave him the impression that he picked up on the subtle hint much quicker than Zolf had when Ed said the same to him. “Okay! Let’s go!” 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Bradley,” Ed said when she looked like she was going to protest. “We’re off the clock tonight. We can stay awhile.” She nibbled her lower lip but then nodded. Ed held out his hand and Selim eagerly took it, all but yanking him up the stairs. 

Ed felt like the walls were closing in on them when Kimblee shut the door to Selim’s bedroom, the light from the hallway dwindling down to a sliver and then disappearing altogether with an ominous click from the latch. His heart started to pound in his chest, but he kept his face neutrally curious. He knew his part to play, and he had to trust Kimblee to play his. “Hey, shouldn’t we turn on a light?” 

His companion’s tone was anything but reassuring. “No, Edward, it’s fine.” He looked at Selim. “Isn’t it?” He sounded like he was sharing a joke only he and the kid would know, slimy and foreboding. They were all pros in this performance. 

“Just fine, thank you, Mr. Kimblee.” The sound of Pride’s voice slipping over Selim’s like a sheath would be enough to fuel a nightmare or two. Ed truly hadn’t fathomed what would happen if they hadn’t really eliminated the monsters. It just seemed so unreal. 

“I’ve decided I would like to see what your father put into the box for you,” Kimblee continued. “Will you show it to me?” 

Ed didn’t have to fake the nervousness in his voice, and that just pissed him off. “What’re you talkin’ about, Kimblee? You’re acting pretty creepy.” 

“Don’t worry, Edward. We’re all old friends here, right?” Pride leaned against the chest of drawers, crossing his arms in front of him. His inky purple eyes slid up to Kimblee. “So, why did you bring Edward.” 

Zolf’s hand was on Ed again, this time on the nape of his neck, as if he meant to hold him in place. There was that tingle against his skin again, weaker now without the other array, but the danger still there. “Consider it a thank you gift for what you’re about to give me.” 

“Zolf…?” Ed was breathing heavily and he felt the other man’s fingers dig in when he coiled into a defensive position. “This is a joke, right? ‘cause it really ain’t funny anymore.” 

Pride threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, Crimson Alchemist, I underestimated you. For a while, I really thought you had found your real soul somewhere. I have never been so pleased to be wrong.” He dropped down, digging out a box and yanking the lid off. His hands found a smaller wooden box, and he opened it, taking out something that glittered red in his fingers. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me! Kimblee!” Ed felt real panic seize him at the sight of the Stone, the worst thing in the world that alchemy could create. He jerked to get out from under Zolf’s hand, instinct kicking in again. All he wanted was to take Pride down and get rid of it once and for all. 

Zolf moved quickly, locking his arm around Ed’s throat and halting any move he might have made to attack Pride. “Not so fast,” he rumbled, the sound a predatory purr as he yanked Ed hard against him. “And what would you do without your alchemy anyway? You should leave things to more capable people.” 

“Capable like you?” Pride asked in amusement. He tossed the Philosopher’s Stone to the taller man, and Zolf caught it with his free hand. 

“You fucking traitor!” Ed yelled, clawing at Kimblee’s arm, bracing his feet against the floor to try and turn the other man’s hold against him. Anything to get away. 

“Do you know how long I have waited to see this?” Pride ignored Ed’s fussing and struggling. He tossed the little box aside and walked closer. “I spent long nights in this shell, feeling this pathetic little human soul fight me every step of the way. And each time the darkness fell, I debated who I would love to see destroyed more – Mustang or Elric. In time, I’ll see both of them fall, but I couldn’t have dreamed a better way to deliver the Fullmetal Alchemist into the Gate.” 

“Kimblee!” Ed made one last desperate attempt to pull free, but Zolf kicked out the back of his good knee, knocking him off balance, and he dropped down. Above him, the nightmare became reality as the little red stone disappeared past Kimblee’s lips. The charge of alchemy around him heightened with the smell of corruption and suffering. He choked on the thickness of the air, the taste of old blood clogging the back of his throat. Zolf drove him down to the floor and both of those hands were on him. He fought through the reflexive terror enough to lock eyes with the Crimson Alchemist above him. His screaming diminished into a whisper. 

“You don’t want to kill me, do you?” 

Seconds later, the room exploded in alchemy. 

/ 

Zolf sat cradling Selim’s body in his arms, his head tipped back against the chest of drawers while he tried to catch his breath. Most of the carpet was scorched and the box that had once held the little boy’s treasures had been reduced to ashes only feet away from him. He still tasted blood on his tongue and his body sang with the thrill of his amplified alchemy. The reaction had been glorious, occupying everything within him. It seemed impossible that it could have worked so well, but he’d been willing to sacrifice himself to try. 

 “I really did try to tell them it was a bad idea,” Ed’s voice could be heard saying from the hallway. “How about that, huh? Relying on _me_ to be the voice of reason. The reaction got a little out of control, but I think he’s all right.” 

Zolf tuned out whatever Mrs. Bradley’s stricken response was. Even if he sucked at it, he would leave Ed to calming her nerves. He just wanted the room to stop spinning. Whispers droned softly at the back of his mind, just like every nightmare he’d had before tonight. But they hadn’t consumed him. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

 “Yeah, you might wanna come tuck him in. Maybe check his head in the morning. Don’t think it’s gonna be that bad, but better to be sure.” 

Someone was taking Selim from his arms, and he let his hands fall away. He opened his eyes to see Mrs. Bradley’s retreating form moving towards the bed with her son in her arms. He could hear the boy quietly fussing that he was fine. Another hand grabbed his to help pull him up. Ed grinned down at him. 

“C’mon, you idiot. I’m gonna lecture you all the way back to the dorm.” 

The sound of his voice so close, the reassuring strength of Ed’s hand clasped around his, brought him back to himself. At the very least, he could find his balance and stay on his feet. Going back home and going to bed didn’t sound like a bad idea at all. “I probably deserve it,” he replied, half of it said for Mrs. Bradley’s benefit. 

“Damn right you do, worrying us like that.” Ed jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow, and Zolf glared down at him. “Let us know he’s all right, okay Mrs. Bradley? And you can tell the doc to bill it on the Crimson Alchemist’s account.” With a cackle, he led Zolf back down the stairs and out the door. 

They walked along without saying a word for several blocks. 

“You all right?” Ed finally asked, glancing sidelong at him. 

Zolf thought about it, trying to assess how he felt. He didn’t think that the sound of whispers he could still hear was going anywhere for a long time. It was starting to sink in that what he’d done had been a success. He paused, making Ed stop a few steps ahead of him and look back. Zolf reached out to press his hand to the wall of the nearest building. Its corresponding shadow shifted and moved in a wavering motion that had Ed scooting back so that he wasn’t standing in it. He shot a wary glare in Kimblee’s direction. Zolf flashed him a bit of a smile. “Fine, I’d say.” 

“That’s fucking creepy. We’ll see how long it lasts,” Ed snorted, his expression somewhere between relief and wariness. “Are you still _you_ in there?” 

The shadows stopped moving instantly. “Yes.” Zolf hoped it wasn’t a farce of the monster that left him feeling as if he were still himself. Certainly, parts of him had changed, there was something deep and dark at his core, but he held it instead of the other way around. This darker side was familiar to him, something he had embraced for so long that, even without the Stone, it felt like second nature. Yet, it didn’t have the power to consume him as it had with the Philosopher’s Stone. Pride was at his core, but he was still Zolf Kimblee. It was the biggest risk he had ever placed on alchemy, and it had paid off. “Do you have the Stone?” 

Ed wrinkled his nose as if Zolf had asked him about holding a rattlesnake. “I have it. Mustang can decide what he wants to do with it. And you.”

 

 ** _Epilogue_**

_We think it is well and truly over now. Selim seems to be just fine, and I don’t think I’m going to tell you about a certain young lady that’s caught his eye. You’d probably haunt him for the rest of his life._

Roy Mustang crouched down to refresh the flowers at Hughes’s gravestone, clearing away the old ones and dusting autumn leaves off of its surface. The sun was going down, crisp air getting more and more chilled as the days moved closer to winter. 

_There are still terrorist attempts and outbreaks along the borders, but we’re working as hard as we can to clear them up. I keep waiting for Kimblee to turn into a monster, but I’m actually glad he chose to come back. I think Edward likes having him around, no matter how many times they fight._

Straightening, he dusted his hands off and saluted. After all, the man had still been promoted to a higher rank, and Roy acknowledged it. Kimblee had already paid his respect, his time with their deceased companion as silent but every bit as intimate as Roy’s. He was still close by though, doing his job in keeping an eye on his commanding officer. 

_That doesn’t mean we couldn’t use you. I’m still kind of pissed that you’re slacking off while I do all the work. Miss you, old friend.  
_

As dusk faded, Mustang felt the dark shifting around him. 

“Sir, we should go,” Kimblee said. 

Roy tugged his coat around his shoulders and nodded his head. The shadows went still again once Mustang rejoined Kimblee and the two started walking back to their dorms. 

_I’m sure you’ll help me keep this shadow on our side, won’t you?_


End file.
